Cold Front
by KateGoode
Summary: I tried to keep it all in, I really did. But sometimes people know just how to play you. I despise myself to letting the Death Eaters take my story...our story. But it was your fault I was captured in the first place, all your lies. It was either speak out or get tortured, and I chose to speak. Just like you chose your Master over me. July fourth. The first day of HELL.
1. July Fourth, The first day of HELL

**Hey, this is my new story. it should be a full story, but i dont know whether to continue it so please review and tell me what you think. :)**

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04 July 2012

15:39

"Start with your name please," The interrogator smiles at me. His name is sewn into the awful DE authorised shirt and trousers that he is wearing. Captain Lestrange.

"Granger." I smirk, I can see it in his eyes, and he thinks he's cracked me. He thinks I've surrendered my name because I'm weak. But I'm not. I know he already is aware of my name, of who I am. The best friend of the boy who lived is not going to disappear without some sort of repercussions.

But, I decide to refrain from telling him that because I already have a collection of cigarette burns on my neck and I would like to avoid getting any more. "Hermione." I continue with my first name and then flick my gaze to the cigarette happy bitch standing behind him. Belatrix Lestrange. Wife. I want to comment, spit out an insult to the woman that murdered my best friend's godfather, but I don't. Right now it's not really my place to comment on something that right now is so in the past.

I have met her before. Crazy, sadistic and completely nuts.

She's wearing the same ugly black shirt with her name and rank printed on it, but her trousers have been swapped for an even uglier black skirt that doesn't do anything for her hips.

I tell her so. Which is a mistake. I know that now, after an excruciating ten minutes of having the DE symbol - a snake writhing out of a scull - branded into my skin.

I can still smell the rankness of burning skin, my burning skin. All for telling her that she needs to maybe stop burning people with cigarettes and start smoking them because 1) maybe they will stop her eating so she could lose a little weight, and 2) hopefully it would cover the stench escaping from her mouth.

I don't think she liked me telling her, or got the hint.

"Now, Agent Granger." he smiles, "I have given you a list of things I would like to know." I smile, as if he is going to get anything out of me.

"Starting with the Order's latest plan of attack," I look down at the paper he has given me. The thick regal looking sheets that are used on prisoners here in the DE base would be like heaven for the Order who have to get by scribbling on receipts and old text books due to the cutbacks on resources that were deemed 'unnecessary.'

There's a pen too, a beautiful looking fountain pen that seems to just guide itself over the paper as I pick it up and scribble the heading. There's not much to tell. I was sent of with fake papers. I was supposed to deliver a message to a man begging for help from a DE controlled area. Though, the message never arrived. But the papers and I happened to fall into the clutches of the DE. The DE stands for something horrific.

Something frightening. Awful. People outside of our little nation of England wouldn't understand the horrors that we have faced. At least they wouldn't have.

Now that I'm writing I guess that I should carry on. It gives me something to do and I need something to focus my over active imagination on. I'm already imagining the way they may have captured the rest of the order while I've been stuck here. I'm far from safe, but at least I know what's going to happed to me.

I've accepted my fate.

Harry and Ron don't ever know if they'll make it home at night. But I'm getting ahead of myself. If I'm going to answer your questions, I'll have to start at the beginning.

There is going to be things you don't like, things that I will revel in telling you because I know that you are closer to failure than you think you a-

I get slapped over the hear my Belatrix Lestrange's manly hand here. It still fucking hurts. I don't think she likes believing in the possibility of failure, she's too close to her precious Dark Lord to believe that there is any way they could fail. Only the best of the best will be kept if they do manage to fight the resistance. If they do manage to prosper even though there are so many against them.

You say you want my story. Alright.

You can have it.

Have it all and I won't hold the fact that you'll have to rip it from my cold dead hands against you...because that is what you are promising isn't it, Captain Lestrange?

I know how it works. I know what is going to happen to me.

I'm not naive enough to assume/ believe that people will find me. That people will save me. You say that if I humour you, if I give you what you want, you'll not kill me.

But I know better.

I know I will die as soon as the last words of my confession slip through my cold lips - could you do us a favour and cast a heating charm, I mean would it kill you? - because it's what you do to the people you believe the world should be rid of.

Because that is what I am aren't I?

Mudblood.

But your words don't hurt me anymore Captain...or maybe I'm talking directly to you master. Voldermort. Evil BASTARD he is.

Do you want to know why your words don't rip into me like they once did?

All because of your nephew through marriage. You know Draco Malfoy don't you, Captain? You wife's, sister's son._ Evil bastard_ he is too.

You all are, pretty much.

I thought he was decent.

I thought that he was a good guy for a little while. I though that he had put blood prejudice behind us, but I was wrong. I fell as easily as a domino, but I think you already know that don't you, Captain?

Captain. I HATE that word almost as much as I HATE Draco Malfoy.

My story starts when I first became a witch. The first time I placed a 'muddy' shoe into Hogwarts. Get what I did there, Captain? Do you appreciate my humour? Do you like the way I play with my words? The way I take your ideals and flush them down the toilet with one carefully placed, snarky remark.

I can see your knuckles whitening as you grasp the table, watching what I'm writing over my shoulder. That's no fun is it, Captain? It ruins the surprise.

I always wanted to be an author, I like the idea of a surprising plot, and there is nothing that will surprise you more than what I am going to tell you.

Maybe it will even change your ideas about your so called 'ideals'. Then again, maybe not. I think you are too far gone to change. Plus, I don't think I'd want a dick/ arse like you on our side. Apparently the Lady-Captain doesn't like my use of insults. Fuck you. I'm giving you what you want, aren't I?

"Lestrange, sort her out." The Lady-Captain spits also reading over my shoulder. Somehow, mostly by the way the Captain shrinks back at her tone; I don't believe they married through love. "Little Shit." Belatrix's wand sparks at her side and she slams my head into the table.

Maybe I should refrain fr–

04 July 2012

16:42

I'm allowed to write again. Belatrix got so pissed at what I wrote about her sham of a marriage that she had to be escorted/ dragged from the room so they could stop her from killing me.

That doesn't stop them from feeling the need to point their wands at my face and forcefully wash my mouth out with some sort of magic-wand soap. Yes, we should all try to kill our prisoners by suffocating them with mouth-wash. Somehow, I don't think it is going to catch on.

I'm told now that I have to start writing something meaningful. I remind the Captain that if this is to be a good story than I need to have a big build up. To which he replies, "Just get to the fucking point." With a few more swear words and other things that I shouldn't mention. I would also like to point out – in writing because I would rather avoid another mouth scrub down – that I have given you all a few good pieces of advice.

1) The Lady-Captain needs to lose weight

2) Your interrogation tactics need work

3) You should save the good paper for something more important

4) Voldermort is a BASTARD and should be thrown off the top of a building (This gets me a good black eye)

5) The youngest Malfoy should never be trusted (then again, maybe none of the Malfoy's should be trusted)

6) And the Captain really needs a good shave – not mentioned before, but I feel the need to share advice and this is at the top of my current 'add to the advice list' list

See, six pieces of great advice that you would have not gotten if I wasn't a 'good for nothing know it all'.

Right, I guess I should start my story now, you are raising you wand, pointing it at me. Okay, okay. I get it.

Important information only.

Voldermort is a BASTARD. What? You said important information

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**so, what did you think? please review because i dont know whether to continue it :) **


	2. July Fifth, Awoken By Screaming

**This chapter is dedicated to NonEgoSumSatis for being the first to add this story to story alert :)**

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05 July 2012

2:42

Yes, you read that correctly. 2. 42 am. As in; the morning. I am woken by screaming. Not mine, though it wouldn't surprise me if it had been because I was having a terrible nightmare.

I decide to start writing. It's something to do. I can't get the screams out of my head now that they are there. Loud piercing sounds that cut through the air like knives.

So I said I would start at the beginning. The first time your bastard of a nephew entered my life. In some twisted way I blame you for him being there are that point in time, Captain. It works in my head by a fragile connection that won't make any sense to anyone else. But I need someone to blame for gullibility and it's going to be you.

If you hadn't married his aunt, maybe we – Draco and I, and I guess me and you is also a meeting I could do without – wouldn't have met. And, I wouldn't be here.

The first time I met Draco was first year. The doors to the great hall.

I remember admiring him, he was beautiful and when the first words out of his mouth were awful and directed at my eleven year old self, it was almost enough to make me cry.

And I did. A lot. I won't pretend his hate filled words didn't affect me, because they did. And I won't pretend that I believe that he ever felt any remorse for what he did and what he said, because I know that he didn't. He never would.

So there you have it, our first meeting and the knowledge that Draco Malfoy was my first crush ever. The snarky git, with the perfect hair made my heart melt like chocolate over the gas of a burner, and I got too close to the fire. Close enough to get burned.

We let him in. I guess you know when he was reporting everything I told him back to you. Was he the one who told you where I was that night? Was he the one who gave me up?

I don't know how he could though, because he hadn't seen me in over a month by that point. Did he tell you everything? The way I crumbled like a burnt chocolate chip cookie, turning to dust beneath his fingers. But I was dust that didn't know how to fly away, how to coast on the wings of the wind because I had never had to before.

So I let him mould me. Was the decision to take my virginity yours, or his? I guess I don't really want to know. Even though I know that it is a long shot, I guess I still like to hope that there was some small recess of his brain that found me attractive enough to willingly bed me. But I guess I will get to that point in the story. It's something that I will make you sit through because I want to tell it. I want everyone to know how you hurt people.

When this war is over, because I know it will be soon, I want everyone to know that you were all monsters. I want everyone to understand how you scarred innocent girls, ripped away their naivety the way a tornado rips a house from the ground, just because you could.

I want no one to have mercy on you; I want you to all fall to the law. Especially Draco Malfoy. I want you to suffer through what you put me through, but I guess a dementor will do if I can't get a cigarette to your throat.

Back to first year, and I guess all the way through school. The young Master Malfoy carried himself with poise and grace; he didn't act like a teenager. His posh Italian leather shoes and expensive robes screamed old money and we used to take the piss out of him all the time for it.

Not for the money, I guess we were all a bit jealous of that. Everyone wants to be rich. But, because of the way he used to prance around like he had a broom permanently stuck up his arse.

The first time he call me a 'mudblood' I think it left a scar on my heart, mostly because I wanted him to respect me. If not because he was really worth the pedestal I put him on, but because he represented the wizarding world and I just wanted to be accepted. I felt that if I could get the Slytherin Sex God / Prince to accept the lowly Gryffindor mudblood, then I would really fit in. I would really have it all. Being a witch was not enough. Being friends with the boy who lived and Ronald Weasley was not enough. Nothing was enough until I got the respect that I knew I should have and not just from him, from everyone.

I haven't managed to express it in the right way. I wasn't in love with him. I didn't fancy him. I did find him attractive, I would have to be stupid not to, but his personality spoiled the goods. It was a crush until the first time he opened his mouth, and then it disappeared.

I didn't want him to like me, I didn't want his love, I didn't want his affection.

All I wanted was respect from one of the only people I had met who wouldn't give it to me.

So I guess that the day it did come I wasn't ready for it. Maybe that was why I became so enamoured with the Slytherin Sex God. I wondered if I could really have it all. Maybe my wires got crossed. Or maybe I was just being a teenage girl and I fell to the idea that a boy might like me. A boy who used to hate me may actually find me attractive.

Fumbles with someone like Ron wasn't what I wanted. I wanted someone who 'wore the pants' – god I hate that phrase. I didn't want to be in charge. I wanted someone who could teach me. I wanted someone who would make me feel things that were earth shattering.

I guess I put too much expectation into it, because it never really lived up to it.

It was sort of shoddy really. Embarrassing, gross and with totally the wrong guy.

I guess I shouldn't lie, should I? For that reason I retract my previous statement. It was perfect, and he was sweet and kind and it was the night I expected and more. And then the morning came and he was gone.

The day he arrived so many people told me he was trouble. Tonks – you know Tonks right? She's somehow related to you, I don't keep a personal record of your family tree in my back pocket so I don't know Captain just where she falls in the category of family, but I know she is there. – told me to watch my back because I was put in charge of keeping an eye on him.

Tonks was nervously touching her hair, another sign of the impending doom was the way her hair turned a bright red. Obviously her Metamorphmagus power was behind the odd hair colour, but maybe it was an omen. I'm only saying that now because I feel I should have known that Malfoy was a bad apple.

Get it, red...apple?

Give me a bit of credit, Captain. I'm working on an empty stomach, two hours sleep and a table that keeps giving me splinters. Sorry if my sense of humour is not all it should be.

Anyway, I feel like I should have known. The brightest witch of her age fails again, right?

Maybe if I had trusted the people around me instead of being so naive I would have been able to protect myself, my heart and everyone who I loved.

There were nights when I sat up late into the night – sometimes through to the morning – talking to the little traitor. I told him about my life. I told him about every one of my secrets.

Just like the first night he arrived I stayed with him pretty much until he disappeared. That first night was the longest and the worst of my life.

He had drunk too much, there was bottle hidden in the back of one of the drawers at the house where we were all staying – the name is under fidelus charm so I can't tell you, what a shame (bet you didn't find that one funny) – and he got smashed out of his mind.

He gets violent when he's drunk. And scary. I was told to stay with him through the night. Maybe it would have been better if Harry or Ron had stayed with him. Maybe then I would have avoided the emotional connection we formed after I let him cry on my lap when he broke down when he realised what he had done.

It might have been the drunken haze, but I think he actually did feel some remorse of hitting me. I let him cry himself to sleep on my lap. I wiped the drool off his lip and I stayed with him as he puked up the alcohol that was rejected from his body. I didn't expect him to be thankful, I didn't even expect him to acknowledge his moment of weakness, but he didn't let me go the whole night.

He cuddled into my side and I could feel his breath on the back of my neck and his hand running up and down my arm before he knotted his fingers through mine and held my hand the whole night.

I don't think I slept at all that night. He did, but he definitely didn't let me go.

Maybe that was when I decided that I felt something for him. All of the times that I wanted his affection maybe I was just searching for the emotions that I wanted to be there. They say there is a fine line between love and hate, and I really believed that there was for a little while.

When you come into the room Captain, you pull me from my story.

I watch you eating your croissant in front of me. Selfish BASTARD. If I ate of floor would you let me eat? Don't hold your breath though because I wouldn't get my nose anywhere near your feet if your breath smells this bad. I guess you like eating muggle food don't you. So you'll eat their food but won't tolerate their 'dirty blood?'

Why don't you try black pudding? Great muggle delicacy, I think you'll love it.

When you finish eating your croissant so delicately, pealing each of the layers back with a smile on your face and your eyes flicking to be like you are imagining ripping of a layer of my skin with every pastry flake that crumbles into your hand, you watch me. You make a writing motion and gesture for me to continue.

I don't. I've already done enough for today.

Oops. Maybe not. The cigarettes are coming back out as well as the matches – another muggle invention (bloody hypocrite- OW!

05 July 2012

6:22

I can finally write again. He used the cigarette to scar my skin and then rubbed some sort of alcohol over it so it hurt to even move my head. After a few hours I have started to gain the mobility of my arms and shoulders again so I have decided to continue my story.

I could have milked it for a little longer I guess, but I decided that would be a bad idea because the faster I write the more useful I am and the longer they will keep me around.

Get that Captain? I'm not writing to please you. I am writing for my life. Just a few more weeks, that's all I want.

Draco smiled at me for the first time two days later.

"Good morning." I smiled, I still hadn't got used to having him around and I still couldn't force myself to speak his first name, but I was doing better than Harry or Ron. I was able to speak to him without drawing my wand and I was able to look at him without gripping something so hard it broke.

"Morning." He did the two finger salute/ wave that only sexy boys seem to be able to pull off – you can't Captain, so stop trying! He's reading over my shoulder again! – and then lifted his coffee to his lips.

I'm not going to fluff out the story and tell you that I instantly forgot our past and started imagining that I was the cup he was smearing his saliva over, because I didn't. I like to think I have a little more control and a little more respect for myself than that. I probably don't, but it's nice to think that I do.

Anyway, it took a while before I really started to trust him. A good long while of patience and hours of talking that probably had him wanting to run faster back to his mummy and daddy than he ever thought possible.

The morning I smiled at him for the first time was the morning that we started planning the trip to Hogwarts. Our first priority was the school and the students inside.

If you could capture the school then there would be no choice but to surrender to save the lives of all the innocent muggleborns that we had promised to protect.

We had planned all the spells to protect the school.

I've enclosed a list and all the reversal spells and counteracting spells as well. It's hard to give you all this information. So hard. But I only volunteer it because I have seen firsthand what you do to the people who don't surrender information.

The interrogation room is made of bars with spaces so that everyone here with me knows that I am a traitor. Knows that I have sold my soul to get a few more weeks, I have to tell you all the secrets that I can.

They made an example of the first person who tried to stop me from speaking, crocio-ed him until his screams were branded into our hearts like the Dark Mark is branded into their skin.

The raid on Hogwarts was planned for two weeks time. I don't know if they'll have changed it by now, without me. But I assume not. So that morning Draco was excluded from the planning. We were still not sure how much faith we could put on his pathetically weak shoulders, which in hind sight was a good thing. Well, until I came along to tell you anyway.

I touched his hand as I made to leave the room; he placed his other on top and grasped mine. For some reason it seemed like a plea to me. Like he wanted me to stay with him. But I didn't. I had more important things to do.

How do you like that Draco? Knowing that, even to the girl who gave you her virginity you were not even that important? Just a blip on the radar in a long life of unfortunate events.

The door shut to the kitchen and I left his pleading, stormy eyes behind and walked away. Towards the drawing room. Towards the people I could trust with my life.

Captain, how do you like looking at me like this? Knowing that there are so many people – me included – that given half a chance would rip you to pieces. How do you like the idea of ending up in Azkaban? Hopefully a lot, because I don't think you have much of a choice.

I think everyone in that drawing room would give their life to take yours. My my, what a big list of enemies you have Captain.

How does one happen to go about making such an impressive list of bad qualities, misdeeds and people who hate them?

I guess I should identify everyone who was there, right?

Well of course there was Harry. Black hair, green eyes, lopsided grin...scar. You know, the boy who you were bread to hate? The boy your master is afraid of. Yeah that guy, my best friend.

Harry Potter was there, arm around Ginevera Weasley. Ginger, tall, beautiful, easily angered, famous for her bat boogy hex. Wouldn't get on the wrong side of her.

Next to her sat Professor Remus Lupin. Long time member, as you know, Werewolf. Also dangerous, also wouldn't get on his bad side.

His wife Tonks. The Metamorphmagus who you are somehow related to. Usually purple hair, brown eyes. Clumsy.

And Dumbledor obviously. Long white beard, bushy eyebrows, kind eyes...how can you not know Dumbledor. Oh, you are pulling my leg Captain. How about I stab your leg with my pen? I didn't think so. Oh, I think he has ditched the ciggys in favour of what look to be poisoned needles. Somehow I doubt that he is going to make me a new skirt.

I avoid the needles by starting to write again quickly. Where was I?

Oh yes, the order meeting.

Not much was discussed; we had most things planned already. The main topic was still our unwanted/ uninvited by most of us, guest. The teenage arsehole/ heart throb depending on who you asked. I'm pretty sure the overall verdict now is traitorous backstabber, but I can't be sure.

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	3. July Sixth, My very own SOB Bad boy

**Hey Guys, i'm not really getting a response from anyone, so i don't really know if you want me to continue, so here is another chapter, but i don't really know if i am going to continue if i don't know if you guys like it or not :) **

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06 July 2012

12:04

Yesterday, today, tomorrow. All the days seem to be merging into one another. Night, day, morning, evening. I can't even remember if I managed to sleep in the last twenty four hours. Though, I'm pretty sure I haven't.

I keep telling the Captain that I have to sleep if I am to write something interesting and important, but he won't listen.

Therefore, I'm just going to sit here writing 'I need sleep' until he realises that I have a point.

I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sleep. I need sle-

06 July 2012

7:37

I managed to convince him with a lot of babbling that the any way he was to get a coherent piece of confession from me today was to allow me to sleep, and therefore I was given a lumpy mattress on the floor and a few hours to get some shut eye.

I have a pounding headache and I still can't really think straight, but I will try anyway. There is no point trying to make things harder for myself.

I let Draco in a few days after the even that I have dubbed the 'First Smile'. The 'First Smile' being the even that led to my downfall and my hatred of good looking, blond idiots who go by the name Draco. If I could go back and change one thing, I would tell myself to stop acting like a pathetic idiot and to take a leaf out of Harry's book of Mistrust and keep my wand aimed on one Draco Malfoy.

Ron was still mistrustful of Draco until the very end, which was one of the main reasons that I was there alone the night that you captured me. Both of the boys refused to accompany someone who would turn against the resistance and side with a _Death Eater. _

It was like the scandal of the century. I mean, it wasn't like I had kicked a puppy or something, but that was what they were acting like.

Every time I locked eyes with Harry, he would shoot a wary gaze in my direction like I had just thrown Hedwig out of the window after cutting off her wings. All I really did was sleep with a guy.

I mean, I know I am viewed as the Virgin Granger, but I mean even 'uptight know it all's' need a release some time. I can hear them now like they are standing with me now, condescending gazes and all! 'Such a little whore!'

_Is that what you thought Draco, when you slept with me? Was that what you were thinking when you lied to me and told me that you loved me? I know now, I know how you rip the hearts out of an innocent girl's chests and then slam them back to where you think they should be. Do you feel any remorse? _

Harry and Ron didn't see it as innocent. They saw it as STUPID!

And, if some feelings got confused, so what? I was the one who got hurt in the end. And, if I am being completely truthful I guess that Harry and Ron turning on me hurt me more than the 'Ultimate Betrayal!'

Yes, that is what I am going to call it. I think it fits pretty well, don't you Captain?

You are watching me Captain, did anyone ever tell you that you should have two eyebrows?

I know that the DE fashion is to look gross and scary, but a little personal hygiene and some deodorant would be appreciated, I mean I could even let you off on the toothpaste charge if you just wore a little DEODERANT!

I wonder if you can't smell it.

Even a _scorgify _charm would be better than this if you can't be arsed to get in the shower!

Ok, I see the topic / major ISSUE of cleanliness isn't your favourite by your willingness you draw your wand. Right, moving on. Have you considered shaving? I was joking Captain, don't get all pissy.

Note to self (Dictated by the Captain!): do NOT call the Captain Pissy. OR tell him he NEEDS to shave / gain another eyebrow. THERE SHOULD BE TWO! Hehe, get it? Oh right, it's from a Muggle film, not something that you pure blood bastards would get.

Something I have noticed since being here is that my vocabulary has become amazingly enlarged.

Anyway, you have pushed another list in front of me, haven't you Captain? You have asked for the location of the Order Base.

I know the whole Death Eater side like to do everything in the open. No 'behind closed doors' or any of that shit for you, but for the rest of us poor souls, unless dying is on your wish list you do stuff incognito.

I like that work. Incognito. Incognito. Incognito. I see you don't like that word, Captain...why? Because you don't know what it means?

...

...

...

Ok, hints at improving education of the Captain are also out.

Seriously, I mean all of these truths are staring them in the face, but they just try to ignore them! Anyway...where was I?

Oh yeah, incognito. So, when I tell you they are all under FIDELUS CHARM do you think you could try to keep up and realise that means I CAN'T tell you?

Get Dumbledor in here if you want to know, but that is all I can tell you.

I am loving the new decor by the way. I mean, a sweaty wall decoration, who looks like he's been slammed through a sewer to get here, wearing DE robes and permanently snarling as well as slamming my head into the table and threatening to curse me just makes me feel so at home.

I mean, I feel so bad that I am living here free of charge. Maybe I should start paying you to stay here. With a few brochures and an advert in the Daily Prophet and I think you could really have something going here!

06 July 2012

16:56

My snarky comments and big mouth have gotten me in trouble again. Though, offering to give them something in return for the 'heaven' – his words not mine – that I am living in as a joke, was taken literally. As in, three hours a day will be up in the main house working for them.

I would like to tell you who I encountered in the main house. Draco Malfoy. It would be odd if I wasn't in Draco Malfoy's house and he wasn't Voldie's right hand man's son, but it isn't odd and it WASN'T a pleasant experience.

Like if I saw him again in the next lifetime, it would be way too soon, which Is too bad because I will see him tomorrow.

I guess that the only good thing was seeing that he was just as shocked as me that the other was there. I wished I had a camera. Do you know what that is, Captain? Again, I will suggest that you should go back to school, maybe enrol in a muggle studies class? Nope. Alright. It was only a suggestion.

You are making some sort of gestures with you hands and I am taking them to mean 'get a move on' so I will.

I was at the first feelings between your little rat and yours truly. It was a strange experience. I was crying due to some insensitive comment that one Ronald Weasley made – there are too many to list, though I should suggest he write a book because he would make millions! – and he was there to comfort me.

You are already looking a little uncomfortable Captain. I can't wait to make you even more uneasy. Not nice thinking of the blond pureblood brat with the lowly mudblood girl, is it Captain?

Too bad. You asked for the story and that is what I am going to give you.

So I ran to him crying. I think that you'll find that in most of our encounters one of us is crying, and I am proud to say that most of the time it was Malfoy. Even though they were probably fake tears, it still gives me a little satisfaction to know that theoretically he was weaker than me. Well, in my head he was.

"Hermione." He had started calling me by my first name and it still made me start. Hearing it in a kind way coming out in his usually cold draw was like a shard of fear was stuffed through my chest. But it was a good fear.

The kind of fear that girls feel in books when they fall in love with the bad boy.

I guess I had my very own SOB bad boy, didn't I?

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